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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29860755">Similarity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbroken/pseuds/Starbroken'>Starbroken</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Universal Century Gundam, 機動戦士ガンダム | Mobile Suit Gundam (TV 1979)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, but it's ABOUT his relation to garma so, char isn't actually IN this fic, this is just older gay talking to younger gay bc thats good for the soul</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:41:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29860755</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbroken/pseuds/Starbroken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the summer of UC 0079 when Garma Zabi shows up at M'quve's mine uninvited and asks for some rather unexpected advice.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Char Aznable/Garma Zabi, Garma Zabi &amp; M'Quve</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Similarity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The youngest Zabi does not believe in announcing himself. Like all of his family he moves with full certainty that everyone around him will naturally accommodate to his presence. If Kycilia or Gihren announce themselves, it likewise isn’t out of courtesy for those they impose on. It is merely to ensure that the facilities are adequately prepared for people of their status. Garma does not seem concerned with the amenities when he shows up on the steps of M’quve’s office with only two guards in tow.</p><p>“This is the third mine I’ve checked. You really ought to better inform your subordinates of your whereabouts,” he says instead of offering a greeting. His hair is slightly tousled from how much he’s been tugging at it over the last few hours. M’quve notes that he looks older. The two of them have never been close by any standard, but M’quve could boast himself as an important confidant of Garma’s sister. On the rare occasion that he’d been invited to the Zabi mansion for dinner with Kycilia, he’d been able to spot the favored son hiding in the corners. Garma had always stuck him primarily as pale - not aristocratic pale like himself but the paleness of one who has seen none of the world. The teenager Garma Zabi had been a ghost - an apparition bearing scary likeness to the sovereign’s late wife, haunting the halls and bestowing on the family a faint vision of what they had lost when Naliss Zabi passed away. There were few words exchanged between M’quve and Garma then and what little they had spoken felt like he was speaking to a copy of Lady Kycilia, only mildly distorted by the voice of a young boy. M’quve had thought it hopeless then, all those efforts Kycilia was putting in to make her little brother become more of a man.</p><p>And yet the person who was standing in front of him now, on a fine summer day in UC 0079, was certainly an adult. Young and inexperienced, but with a presence that commanded respect. Through all his annoyance at being interrupted, M’quve still had to admit that he was impressed.</p><p>“You must pardon me, I was not expecting guests of your caliber. Or any guests at all. My location is generally treated as need-to-know around here.” M’quve rises from his chair, unwilling to have Lady Kycilia’s baby brother look down on him. His leather boots click satisfyingly on his office floor as he walks to stand in front of the young man and offers his hand for shaking. Garma’s grasp is firm, but his eyes dart nervously from side to side, measuring the room to avoid looking directly at M’quve. </p><p>“I didn’t want to make a big affair out of this. You see, this isn’t a formal visit. Rather, I had hoped to simply talk to you in private.” Garma speaks like a politician now and he’s developed his own style. Kycilia’s influence is notable but no longer overpowering. One might almost be tempted to take the little prince seriously.</p><p>“In private?” M’quve raises his eyebrows. It’s plenty private already, with only Garma’s two attendants and Uragang in the office. If a word of what they were talking about now got out of this room, it was very clear whose heads would be on the block for it. “If you can bear to wait another two hours, I would have you directed to a guest room and call upon you after my duty finishes. I regret to say but on such short notice, it would be impossible for me to step away from my office just yet.”</p><p>There is a moment of silence and M’quve takes the chance to study Garma’s features more intently. Just what would bring him here, all the way from North America? Though the two of them formed the elite of the Earth Occupation Force, their contact had been sparse to non-existent and largely took place via secretaries exchanging business memos. M’quve is not pleased about the sudden change in pace. This whole time he’d underestimated the fledgling captain, but could it be that Garma Zabi had actually caught on to his sister’s machinations? M’quve always had the impression that Garma was his lady’s favourite brother, but surely even he would not be privy to the truth behind the mines? Then, was it suspicion? M’quve had agreed to become a pawn in the game between Zabi the moment he accepted this position under Kycilia, but he wasn’t too keen on complicating matters further. </p><p>Ding, ding, ding. He flicks his vase thrice in a row once Uragang guides Garma and entourage out of the door and down the hall, carefully avoiding any of the other office spaces and their damning documents. Ding. The fourth flick is so violent that M’quve startles himself and hurriedly checks the poor beauty for scratches. Zabi men truly were the most irritating breed of men in the whole Earth Sphere. </p><p>_____</p><p>He makes sure to welcome Garma in his personal quarters. Under any other circumstances he would hold audiences in his office, an imposing domain in which he was completely in control - but if there is anybody who could snatch that control right out of his thin fingers, it’d be a Zabi. In the whole of Zeon’s Earth territory, Garma is the only man who M’quve does not outrank nor is outranked by. They were two captains, but thinking that way would only give a false illusion of equality. A Zabi was a Zabi and would remain a Zabi - push come to shove, all it would take would be a word to his dearest father and Garma could have M’quve completely in his grip. So the office was out. M’quve chooses his playing fields carefully. He is fond of chess, a game with a rich tradition in Earth culture.</p><p>Though M’quve spends his time traveling between the many mines in the region to personally oversee operations and leave nothing to chance, he’s personalized all of the rooms he stays in. What a sad state of affairs would it be to reside on Earth and still spend your time as though you were confined to a sparsely furnished spaceship. No, M’quve would not stand for it. It’s <em> because </em>he is a spacenoid that he can appreciate the Earth and its air of history, where earthnoids themselves have long lost all sense for the beauty that surrounds them. </p><p>M’quve’s quarters are lavish. Vases of lesser, but certainly not low, value line the shelves of his parlor and most of the books spread around the room date back to Anno Domini. It is satisfying to watch Garma Zabi shuffle about, clearly curious and barely holding on to decorum so he doesn’t instantly lose himself in examining the treasures M’quve has amassed.</p><p>This is M’quve’s domain. At work, Garma has the upper hand. Here, M’quve is the older and better studied man, here he can intimidate on his own terms. He gives a thin-lipped smile.</p><p>“Welcome, please do make yourself comfortable. You must have had an exhausting trip, so I thought it would be apt for us to talk in a more relaxed atmosphere.”</p><p>Called out on his hesitation, Garma does immediately find a seat on one of the leather armchairs. He crosses his legs and M’quve thinks he hasn’t actually<em> looked </em>this much like Kycilia in all the time he’s known him. M’quve seats himself across from him and says nothing, silently prompting Garma to finally reveal just what sent him halfway across the globe, abandoning his post in the process.</p><p>Garma leaves him waiting. </p><p>The antique clock ticks away second after second. It’s a pleasant noise that M’quve would not want to miss. At night, it helps him sleep. The technological advancements of the Universal Century are something to be proud of, but digital clocks lack all charm. Minimalism is such a curse.</p><p>Garma says nothing. His hands are resting on his knees and his gaze is directed in the same direction. M’quve doesn’t rush him. He didn’t get to his position and expertise by being impatient.</p><p>Tick tock, says the clock. To pass the time, M’quve takes a miniature vase off the coffee table and examines the carvings.</p><p>“You...” Garma starts and his voice has a bit of that nervous pitch to it that M’quve remembers from when he was only 14. The young Zabi catches it, cuts himself off, and sounds a lot more sure of himself when he starts up again. “Please excuse me if I am overstepping here, but the matter I come to you with is not related to the war. It’s solely personal.”</p><p>“Personal?” M’quve can’t stop himself from sounding incredulous. At the very least, his curiosity is piqued. “Do go on.”</p><p>Garma swallows hard.</p><p>“My sister mentioned in passing that your... your preferences are limited to men. Is that correct?” </p><p>M’quve nearly drops his vase. </p><p>“.... yes.” It is hard to imagine what context could have possibly prompted Lady Kycilia to explain the sexual orientation of her subordinates to Garma, but M’quve decides that some questions were better unasked - if only to protect his working relationship to his superior. “I have not precisely been keeping it a secret either.”</p><p>Did Zeon’s most beloved Zabi prince hound him down all the way in Europe just for this? Control of the situation seems to slip from M’quve’s fingers by the second and for once, he has no idea how to regain his footing.</p><p>The way Garma’s face seems to light up in relief does nothing to soothe him.</p><p>“Oh, I’m glad,” Garma says and it’s the most heartfelt he’s ever sounded in their conversations. There is nothing M’quve could possibly retort.</p><p>“... thanks?” he tries weakly and he doesn’t think he’s felt this awkward since he was in his early 20s and trying out cello lessons. “You came an awfully long way just to congratulate me on my homosexuality.” </p><p>Garma shakes his head and laughs, a bit too high pitched. “No, no, of course not, it’s just... all else I was going to say would not have made much sense, had I been mistaken.”</p><p>Maybe a Federation fighter sighting would be nice right now, M’quve thinks. Just a little action, a negligible mishap for a distraction, so he can gather his thoughts and feel a little less like a bug under a magnifying glass. Looking at his vases to ground himself backfires. He is suddenly very aware of how masculine Hermes’s naked physique looks on one of the few Greek pieces in his collection. How Garma could ever have held doubts about M’quve’s gayness is honestly beyond him.</p><p>After what feels like another eternity, filled with only the faint tick tock and Garma twirling his hair at mach speed, Garma finally reveals another part of the puzzle and the pieces begin to fall into place.</p><p>“There’s a man.” Garma isn’t meeting his eyes.</p><p>M’quve nods. “There are many men.”</p><p>It’s petty to make Garma squirm like this, but no matter.</p><p>“Char Aznable.”</p><p>“I have heard of him - extraordinary accomplishments at Loum. They call him the Red Comet, if I recall.”</p><p>“Mhm.” Garma seems more candid with his feelings now, his body language less carefully composed. The tension in his fingers is plain to see. “Loum, yes. Incidentally, that’s when I last saw him.”</p><p>Him. The gravity in that single syllable is familiar. How many times has M’quve heard those three letters uttered heavy with the same meaning, the same yearning? One has to pity the fools who fall that deeply. Loum was nearly seven months ago. Falling out of touch for months at a time was only to be expected in wartime, but there seemed to be more to the story here. M’quve watches silently as Garma wets his lips and wills himself to continue.</p><p>“I know my sister trusts you with all her secrets.” </p><p>Well, that is gratifying to hear. M’quve smiles.</p><p>“I have faith in my sister’s judgment and want to trust you as well, so please keep this private.”</p><p>“Of course. I would never betray Lady Kycilia and neither will your trust in me be misplaced.” So long as Garma remains on Kycilia’s good side, that is, but it is hard to imagine her abandoning a pet project such as her baby brother is.</p><p>Garma seems satisfied by the reassurance. If there is anything the two of them share beyond purple hair and apparently homosexuality, it is admiration for Kycilia Zabi.</p><p>“Good. Then, let me get to the point without further ado.” </p><p>The only reason M’quve doesn’t point out just how much ado this already has been is that by now he is genuinely a little curious about the details of Garma Zabi’s late bloomer feelings.</p><p>It turns out to be a fairly commonplace tale. Garma had fallen in love with his best friend at the military academy and not understood how to put a name to those feelings until after their graduation - at which point Char Aznable had already been expelled and vanished to god-knows-where. They only met again at the Loum victory part and...</p><p> 

</p><p>“.... andthenwesleptwitheachother.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>Even if the words were hard to make out, the worrisome blotchy shade of crimson on Garma’s cheeks would be enough to reverse engineer what had just been said.<em> I really can’t tell Lady Kycilia now </em> , M’quve muses, <em> she might have the man executed. </em></p><p>“We...” The sheer force with which Garma tugs at his hair is rather worrisome for his scalp, but at least he’s speaking with normal gravity now. “... we slept with each other. After the party, it just wound up this way. The details do not matter.”</p><p>M’quve scoffs. “... believe me, I was not going to ask.”</p><p>“Ah. Yes. Of course. Good. Thank you. The point is, I have not heard from him since and I... well, I would rather like to continue our relationship, even if just our friendship. That’s the long and short of it.”</p><p>Maybe this would be a good time to tell the boy that he hasn’t had a long term relationship in a decade and the last one ended in tragedy, but M’quve decides such personal details are no matter.</p><p>“And you haven’t tried contacting him at all?”</p><p>The answer is merely a silent headshake. Only when M’quve raises an eyebrow, Garma adds elaboration: “I didn’t want to be clingy - I know he values his independence.”</p><p>“There’s a middle ground between seeming clingy and uninterested. How is he supposed to know you did not just consider your one passionate night a grave mistake? As a Zabi man, you should know better than letting an opportunity to take charge slip through your fingers like this.”</p><p>Imitating Kycilia’s mantra has immediate effect. Garma’s back straightens and he pushes his chin out, suddenly a lot more imposing in his chair. </p><p>“So help me.” It sounds like an order. “If I contact Char, it should be with a whole game plan. If he accepts a date and comes to New Yark, it has to be perfectly planned.”</p><p>“Naturally. So tell me… How many museums are still intact after the initial bombing?”</p><p>_____</p><p>By the time Garma is ready to leave, several hours have passed and he’s taken almost a dozen pages of notes. Sights that are worth seeing together, antique romance plays for conversation, ideas for subtle jewelry befitting a soldier sweetheart... M’quve is quite satisfied with himself. Any man who does not appreciate such a cultured date plan is not worthy of a member of the Zabi family, that is for sure.</p><p>At the door, Garma turns back and gives M’quve a long intent look. </p><p>“... thank you. I... this will sound odd, but I truly did not know who to turn to. You’re the only gay person I know and... it felt good, talking to someone who understands.”</p><p>The young Zabi is out the door before M’quve can answer and he leaves behind only that lingering sense of sincerity. Does he truly understand? He didn’t, really, but now he feels 20 years younger, a gangly teenager thinking himself lost and so different from his peers, and suddenly he understands perfectly.</p><p>“Good luck, my lord,” he says to the empty room, a faint smile playing at his lips.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is my first fic in a long long time. I didn't want to think too hard about it or work too long on it, because I was afraid I might psyche myself out of finishing altogether. I am still pretty fond of this though. M'quve rights!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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